Friends
by Sherlolly-221B
Summary: Sherlock didn't realise how much his friends meant to him until after the fall. One-shot. Mostly friendship, with hints of Sherlolly, quite fluffy and angsty.


_A Week After The Fall_

Only now Sherlock realised how much exactly his friends meant to him.

Lestrade had always been there for him, even in his darkest times, when everyone else had abandoned him. The detective inspector acted as a father figure to the young man, providing him with advice and pointing him in the right direction. Sherlock hugely appreciated everything that Lestrade had done, although he did not know how to repay him for it all.

Mrs Hudson was like the loving mother he had never had. She would go out of her way for him, he knew. He cared about her so much and, when someone hurt her, it didn't just anger him, it _upset_ him deeply. The kind woman had put up with all of his irritating habits, even when he had shot her wall or stored heads in the refrigerator. She was so patient, so loving. She was, quite simply, an angel.

John. Sherlock always felt a lump in his throat when he thought about his best friend standing at his grave, his head in his hands as he sobbed despairingly. John had taught Sherlock how to care and how to love, how to say sorry, how to say goodbye… John was the heart to Sherlock's whirlwind mind, and he had taught Sherlock how to be human.

Then there was Molly; the woman he had not known he was in love with. It must have taken her so much courage to risk everything for him, to put her whole life in jeopardy to save his life. She would do anything for him, even if it meant threatening her entire future, and he knew he would do anything for her, because she counted.

As Sherlock sat in silence, thinking only about those who mattered most to him, he promised himself that one day he would thank them for being there for him.

_A Year After The Fall_

Sherlock felt a weight lift off his shoulders as he looked into John's deep blue eyes for the first time in twelve months. There was a look on John's face – an expression of doubt, relief and anger all at once.

The consulting detective felt a strong fist collide with the side of his face. He reeled backwards in shock and held a hand up to his cheek, which was now bleeding. John shook his hand and groaned in pain. He looked up at Sherlock for a moment and the rage in his eyes faded.

Suddenly, Sherlock was pulled into a hug by the army doctor, who was now crying quietly into his shoulder. The tall man hesitated before returning the hold. He sighed. He was not normally one for physical contact, but after a year of being without John, this was more than acceptable.

_Later That Day_

Sherlock had not expected Mrs Hudson to shout at him, although it was actually quite amusing. Seeing the woman in such a fury only confirmed what he already knew – that she cared immensely about him.

It took her a few minutes to calm down, but when she did she instantly started sobbing with joy. She ran up to Sherlock and squeezed him tightly. A feeling of comfort flooded the detective.

"I love you," Mrs Hudson wept into his shirt.

"I love you too, Mrs Hudson."

Out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock could see John smiling.

_A Couple Of Days Later_

"Bloody Hell, Sherlock, I can't believe you'd do that for us."

Sherlock had explained the whole story to John, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson – how he had faked his death in order to save them from being killed. Mrs Hudson was crying again, Lestrade seemed to be in shock and John was simply grinning.

"No," the doctor responded to Lestrade's comment, "I can believe it. I have always believed in you, Sherlock."

"We all have," Mrs Hudson added.

Lestrade nodded, although Sherlock could see something in his eyes that resembled guilt.

"Do not feel bad for doubting me, Lestrade," he told, "It was all part of Moriarty's scheme. It was what he knew would happen."

The inspector smiled. "I know, but I can't help feeling like I've let you down."

"I think you are allowed to every so often, considering the number of times I have let _you_ down."

Lestrade furrowed his brows. "Sherlock, don't say that, you've never let me down. Not ever."

Sherlock could not think of a response.

_A Week After_

The four of his friends had gathered in 221b, none knowing what to expect. Sherlock had called them here to tell them something, although none of them knew what.

"You have always been there for me," he began sincerely, "And I do not appreciate you as much as I should. Before I met all of you, I was lost. I had nobody. I was so alone and I owe you all so much."

John flinched at the familiar words.

"I have come to realise," Sherlock continued, "That without you I would be just as bad as Moriarty, alone and bitter with nobody to confide in. You have made me who I am. You have made me realise that friends _do_ matter, and caring is _not_ a disadvantage. Quite the opposite, in fact."

He paused and cleared his throat.

"Listen, all I am trying to say it… Thank you."

There was silence for a few moments. The group stood, blinking, not believing that they had just heard such honest and warm words come out of the mouth of Sherlock Holmes.

Mrs Hudson started to clap. Molly joined in, then Lestrade and finally John, until the whole room was filled with applause. The two women were crying and Lestrade looked at a loss for words.

John stopped clapping and stepped forward. He stared up at his friend, his eyes shining with tears.

"Sherlock Holmes, I fucking love you, you know that?"

_A Few Months Later_

Sherlock felt like there was something he needed to do.

He could not stop thinking about what Molly was up to nowadays, now that he was gone from her flat and back at Baker Street again. How was she coping with the sudden change? He had not seen her for weeks and his concern was growing.

He ended up standing on her doorstep, wondering whether he should let himself in with the key she had given him or knock. Eventually he decided on the latter.

Molly opened the door almost instantly. She was dressed in a green tank top and a pair of checked pyjamas bottoms, her caramel hair in loose ringlets. She looked surprised to see him.

"Sherlock," she began, and the detective felt thankful that she had lost her stutter, "Why are you-"

Before he had realised what he was doing, Sherlock had flung his arms around the petite woman and pulled her into an embrace. She let out a squeak in shock, but after a few seconds she put her arms around his waist.

Sherlock closed his eyes and breathed in slightly, relishing the scent of her hair. The smell of disinfectant was gone and was replaced by the delightful aroma of lavender scented conditioner.

"I never thanked you in person for helping me," he whispered to her.

"You didn't have to," Molly replied.

"Of course I did. Molly Hooper, you saved my life and… And you made my life better to live."

Molly pulled away and smiled up at him sweetly.

"You changed _my_ life, Sherlock. I know sometimes you made me feel utterly miserable, but when you're in love you forget about stuff like that. When you love someone, they're all you can think about and you don't care about their flaws."

"Hmm," replied the detective, as if agreeing with her.

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**Hope you enjoyed it! **

**Any comments are appreciated and taken on board! Thanks everyone :) xxx**


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